_V.--WALTER HAS A NEW ADVENTURE._
Toni Hirzel recovered but slowly from the injuries he had suffered, and
the entire winter passed away before he found himself able to make use
of his limbs again. But the doctor's fears that he would never be able
to resume the life of a mountaineer were unfortunately confirmed. He
never properly recovered the use of his foot; and Toni often cast a
sorrowful glance at the gun now hanging useless on the wall. To this
cause of regret there was added anxiety for the future. The chase, which
had hitherto so materially assisted in supplying his wants, could no
longer be followed; and although Walter had grown tall and strong, he
was not experienced enough to take his father's place. In addition to
this, Hirzel had expressly forbidden his boy to have anything more to do
with hunting, which sooner or later would be sure to lead to a violent
and dreadful death; and in order to remove temptation as much as
possible from him, he sold his gun to one of his neighbors.
"Now, Watty," said he, putting the eighty francs which he had received
into a drawer, "we have got nearly money enough for another cow, and we
must see if we can't raise the remainder, that we may have at least milk
and butter."
"We have got plenty of money, father," replied Watty. "There is the
hundred francs that Mr. Seymour gave me lying useless in the desk, and I
insist upon your taking the half of it at least, to replenish the byre.
But," added he, with a sigh, "without chamois-hunting I do not see how
matters are to go with us. Do you know, father, I have been thinking
that I might do something to earn my living."
"In what way, Watty?"
"Well, I might go down to the inn every day, and offer my services to
the visitors as a guide. I know all the roads, and can show the people
the way to the Blue Grotto, or conduct them to the peaks of the Wellhorn
and Engelhorn; and as the landlord is always so friendly, I'm sure he
would recommend me."
"Not a bad idea," replied Hirzel. "To be sure, it is only for the
summer; but as there are always a good many travellers, you might be
able to save enough to carry you through the winter. Turn guide, then,
Watty," he added, after a little more consideration, "and I will stay at
home and attend to the house and the cow. Let us be thankful I'm strong
enough for that, at any rate."
The plan of operations which was thus arranged was not, however,
destined to be carried into effect, for the next day Frieshardt came to
pay a visit to the cottage, with a proposal of quite a different kind.
He had shown himself very attentive and neighborly since Hirzel's
accident, and had given him proofs of kindly feeling during the period
of his convalescence. The old friendship had therefore been fully
restored, and the affair of the cow and the borrowed money had been long
since forgotten. Hirzel rose as Frieshardt entered, and gave him a
hearty welcome, in which he was cordially joined by Walter.
"I have got a suggestion to make to you, neighbor," said the well-to-do
farmer, seating himself near the fire.
"To me!" exclaimed Hirzel. "What can a poor man like me do to serve
you?"
"I don't mean you so much as Watty," continued Frieshardt. "He has grown
a tall, sensible fellow now, and I know he is honest, every inch of
him."
"Ah! you are right there, neighbor, although I say it to his face,"
replied Hirzel.--"You don't need to blush, boy. It is nothing more than
your duty to behave honestly.--But what can Watty do for you?"
"Well, the long and the short of the matter is this," said the farmer.
"I've got sixty head of cattle down in Meyringen, which I am going to
send to France to sell. A drover has been recommended to me who
understands the business, but I should like to send some reliable person
with him to look after the money, and see that everything is properly
attended to. I think Walter would be the man for me, if he will agree to
it. He shall have good wages, and everything done to make him
comfortable."
Father and son exchanged looks, and each saw in the countenance of the
other that the proposal was a good one. "If my father is satisfied,"
said the youth, "I shall be delighted to go."
"Well said," replied Frieshardt, evidently pleased. "Now let's hear what
you want for the journey."
"I would rather you would say what you will give," answered Walter. "I
don't understand such things very well."
"Well, then, I'll pay all your expenses there and back, and give you a
hundred francs into the bargain. Are you satisfied with that?"
"Yes, more than satisfied," replied the boy. "But I should like it
better if you would give father a cow now, instead of giving me the
money afterward. I should be glad indeed if he could get one before I go
away."
"But what would you want for yourself when you come back?"
"Nothing, neighbor. If you will only grant my request I shall be quite
contented and thankful."
"Well," said Frieshardt, "you are a dutiful and kind-hearted son, and
I'm sure you will be a faithful servant. You shall have my cow Black
Elsy, and your father can fetch her whenever he chooses. Meanwhile, you
must be ready to go to Meyringen to-morrow morning," continued
Frieshardt. "I will go with you, and give you all the instructions you
will require. It won't be a difficult affair, and I'm sure you will
manage it easily. Adieu, till morning."
With these cheering words the farmer left Walter and his father to talk
over the unexpected change in their fortunes.
Shortly afterward Walter repaired to Frieshardt's farm, and came back
leading Black Elsy in triumph; and after taking farewell of his father,
returned to Frieshardt's house on the following morning. The route which
Walter's employer chose led them past the splendid waterfalls of the
Reichenbach to the charming village of Meyringen, where the cattle were
collected. When they reached the village they found a drover of the name
of Seppi waiting for them; and to the latter, as well as to Walter, the
farmer gave the necessary instructions regarding the treatment of the
herd during the ensuing journey.
Our young hero entered upon the journey actuated by the best of motives,
the duty of looking after the cattle absorbing so much of his attention
that he had very little opportunity for increasing his acquaintance with
his travelling companion. The fact was, however, that he did not feel
himself much drawn toward Seppi, from whom he had received anything but
a very friendly welcome when they first met; the drover had, moreover, a
rough and uncultivated manner, which was somewhat repulsive. His
treatment of the animals was unduly harsh when any of them became
restive and obstinate, and he seemed angry when Walter checked his cruel
behavior, and pointed out to him that the dumb animals intrusted to his
care should be treated with kindness and patience. But by degrees the
young men became more reconciled to each other; and as Walter accustomed
himself to the ungainly appearance of his companion, he came to the
generous conclusion that Seppi had an honest and well-meaning heart in
spite of his rough and unpolished ways.
They soon reached the French frontier, and after a long journey found
themselves in the outskirts of Paris. Walter had arranged the stages so
well that the animals were in admirable condition, and warranted the
expectation of a good and prompt sale. Seppi was of the same opinion,
and said he thought they would sell for even more than the price
Frieshardt had named.
"I think they will," assented Walter, cheerfully. "The cattle are in
splendid order, and we'll see if we can't astonish Mr. Frieshardt when
we get home."
"Ay, ay; we shall see," echoed Seppi, with a peculiar expression of
voice.
The cattle were all sold at high prices within three days, and Walter
decided to start for home the next morning.
"But why need we be in such a hurry?" inquired Seppi.
"Because we've nothing more to stay for, and the longer we stay here,
the more expense we shall cause to Mr. Frieshardt, and that would be
very wrong."
The drover shrugged his shoulders, and after a long interval added,
cautiously, "You must be very soft, Walter. If you were only a little
more wide-awake, we might make a good thing for ourselves out of this
affair, and no one be any the wiser."
"In what way?"
"Don't you see what I mean?" continued Seppi, with a cunning smile.
"You've got about one-third more cash than Frieshardt expects. What is
there to hinder us from dividing it between us? It would be a good thing
for us, and nobody could ever find it out, because we should both keep
it dark."
"I hope you are only joking," said Walter, with a serious look. "Do you
think I am going to swindle my master because he has put so much
confidence in me? You can't surely be in earnest, Seppi. You only want
to test my honesty."
"Bother your honesty," returned Seppi. "Sharpness is better than honesty
nowadays. You've got more than thirty thousand francs in that belt round
your waist; we've only got to divide it between us, and then we could
lead a glorious life in Paris. No one could ever find us out, for the
city is so large that Frieshardt might search for weeks before getting
on our track. Look at that, Walter! You'll perhaps never have such a
splendid chance again as long as you live. What have you to lose at
home? Nothing. You'll only be a poor half-starved fellow if you go back.
Now's your time. Seize the opportunity at once, like a man."
Walter refused, with great indignation, to heed this infamous advice.
His earnest words were followed by a loud burst of laughter from his
companion. "Don't fly into a rage, comrade, and excite yourself that
way," said Seppi. "You don't seem to know what a joke is. Just as if we
could pocket all that money without the police being at our heels
directly. Why, we should get at least ten years' imprisonment without
any manner of doubt. No, no; I merely wanted to see whether you were
really as honest and straightforward as Frieshardt made you out to be,
and I see he didn't praise you more than you deserve. Give me your hand,
old fellow, and believe me when I tell you that you shall never be tried
this way again. If you like, I will leave Paris with you this very
night, to prove to you that I was only making fun."
Walter drew a long breath. "Thank God that it was only a joke!" said he,
returning the friendly grasp of Seppi, of whose thorough sincerity he
seemed to entertain no longer any doubt. "I am quite agreeable to start
to-night, for so much money makes me feel anxious, and I sha'n't be
comfortable till it is in the hands of our master."
"Well, we can get off at once," assented Seppi, "and then we shall get
to Boissy before nightfall. I know a cheap and comfortable inn there; so
the sooner we're off the better."
Much pleased that his companion should agree so readily to leave Paris,
Walter felt sorry that he had entertained any doubts of his character,
even for a moment. Their simple preparations were speedily made, and
half an hour afterward they set out upon their return, and took the road
to Boissy.
It was dark by the time they reached their destination; but as Seppi
knew the village well, he had no difficulty in finding the inn, which
was about ten minutes' walk from the high-road. The house was old and
uncomfortable in its appearance, and produced a very unfavorable
impression upon Walter; but the welcome they received from the landlord
was so cordial that the impression was at once removed. An old married
couple and a young and powerfully built fellow seemed to be the only
occupants of the large building. At Seppi's order a bottle of wine was
brought, and Walter, being somewhat fatigued with the journey, was
easily persuaded to take more than his usual allowance. Overpowered with
drowsiness, his head sunk down upon the table, and in a few seconds the
unsuspecting youth was in a profound slumber.
"There's a snorer for you!" said Seppi to the man who had waited upon
them. "Lend me a hand to get him to bed, André."
Whereupon they carried him up stairs, and along a passage, to a small
room at the farther end, and laid him on a bed just as he was. Having
struck a light, André was about to leave the room, when he was detained
by the other.
"Look here," said Seppi, taking some money from his pocket. "I am going
away again to-morrow morning before daybreak, and may not be back until
the day after. Here is payment for our supper and night's lodging. My
friend will stay here, and you must not on any account allow him to go
away till I come back. Give him anything he asks for; but keep an eye on
him, for he is not right in his head, and must either have some one
always with him, or be locked in his room. I can't take him with me in
the morning, and so I have brought him here, where I know he will be in
good hands. You will promise to attend to what I have told you, André?"
"Your instructions shall be attended to," replied the other, slipping
the gold coin which Seppi tendered him into his pocket. "You shall have
no reason to complain."
"That's well. When I come back you shall have another gold piece if I
find everything right. And look here: only bolt the outer door to-night
instead of locking it, or else leave the key in the lock, so that I can
get away in the morning without waking anybody."
The man promised to attend to that also, and quitted the apartment. When
he was gone, Seppi bolted the room door, and gazed at his unconscious
companion with a malicious scowl.
"Fool!" said he, "I made you a fair offer when I proposed to go halves
with the money; but as you were idiot enough to decline, so much the
better for me. When you wake in the morning you'll be sorry you let the
chance slip."
[Illustration: "HE UNBUCKLED THE MONEY-BELT."]
Thus muttering to himself, he unbuckled the money-belt that was round
the waist of the sleeping man, and fastened it securely round his own.
He then abstracted Walter's passport and the other papers that were in
his pockets, without arousing him.
"He lies there like a dead dog," thought the drover; "and, with the dose
I gave him, is not likely to trouble any one till morning."
Waiting impatiently for more than an hour, until every one was in bed
and the house silent, Seppi quitted the room on tiptoe, locked the door
on the outside, and crept noiselessly along the passage and down the
stairs. André had not forgotten to leave the outer door unlocked, and
pushing back the bolt with the greatest caution, the ruffian slipped
out, and as soon as he had got clear of the village hurried away at the
top of his speed.
The Swiss drover had shown great cunning in his scheme to get possession
of the money from Walter, and he carried it out with equal boldness. He
had often helped to drive cattle to Paris before, and knew the roads
well. He had frequently been at the inn at Boissy, and its distance from
Paris, and the character of the man who attended to the business,
recommended it as well suited to his purpose. André, like many others of
his kind, was greedy of money, and the golden bribe quieted all his
doubts as to the truth of the story about his companion. Seppi, on his
side, knowing that the sleeping powder which he had secretly mixed with
Walter's wine was sufficient to prevent him waking for nearly a whole
day, gave himself no further trouble as to what might happen in the way
of pursuit. It was enough for him that his stratagem had been
successful, and he hastened along the well-known by-paths until he had
left Boissy far behind.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]